Untitled
by Hyatt Insomnia
Summary: Slice of Life fic. David gets his racket fixed and Bane muses over him practicing. Old fic previously posted on LJ now being posted here.


**Title**: Untitled  
**Fandom**: Prince of Tennis  
**Challenge**: Obscure Characters  
**Rating**: G  
**Character**: Kurobane Harukaze (could also be Amane Hikaru)  
**Time**: 48 minutes  
**Disclaimer**: Prince of Tennis belongs to Konami Takeshi.  
**Notes**: This was written for a Temps_mort challenge on Livejournal back in 2004. It's never really been a really story, but more just like a blip in time. Anyays, I think these two are amusing.

The loud smack of the tennis ball hitting the court and then the wall echoed throughout the Rokkaku courts. It had already been a week since they had lost in the semi-finals to Seigaku, a week since Kawamura's 'dash Hadoukyuu' had cracked Amane's racquet. The time without the familiar long reach had been an interesting experience, although it provided much amusement to Kurobane at points. He'd always have to stifle the small bout of laughter that wanted to escape the few times that Amane would forget he was using a normal racquet and fall far short of hitting the ball.

But now, Oji had fixed David's racquet so the temporary amusement of his slip-ups was taken away and the echo of the tennis ball could be heard all around the courts throughout the day. Amane still practiced even though it was nearing sunset. Kurobane was watching from just outside the fence, with his fingers gripping loosely at the wire, and had been for the past twenty minutes. He could tell just how hard Amane had been practicing by his hair. It had been in its usual, full of super-hold gel form the last time he had seen him just after practice, but it was now pulled back in a loose ponytail just as it had been when they had had their match against Seigaku's Momoshiro and Kawamura. There was also, on closer inspection, a visible line of sweat along David's back, temporarily staining his uniform a dark red.

Still, it didn't seem as if Amane noticed. He had lost himself in the rhythm of the swings of his racquet and the heavy rise and fall of his chest. His muscles were probably hurting, Kurobane silently mused. He'd been out there since just after practice. Even the most trained muscles would feel the bite of hours of the same swing and hit pattern. With that thought and a quick upwards glance at the sky (it's colors told him that it would be too dark for anyone to play tennis soon enough) made Kurobane decide he might as well stop his teammate.

"Yo, David," Kurobane called as he walked around the fence to join Amane on the court. The sound of the ball hitting the racquet was heard as David turned his head, a single bead of sweat tricking down the side of his face, to look at the one who addressed him. The ball, as usual, bounced off of the ground and onto the court-like wall then back towards Amane. Had he been paying attention, rather than looking at the ball, as he should've. Instead of once again hitting the sweet spot of his long, wooden racquet and repeating the pattern, it smacked Amane on the side of the head, making him stubble backwards as it fell and bounced twice on the ground before coming to a stop, the sound of his racquet dropping having been heard just a split second before.

Amane held the side of his face as Kurobane gave a small snicker to himself. "You should give someone a heads-up before they get hit in the head," came the usual, half-expected pun.

Even though it was quite the common occurrence (common as in, Kurobane couldn't recall a time when he'd been in his doubles partner's presence without having to hear at least one) Kurobane's eyebrow twitched slightly. He delivered the normal kick to the head—such an act having become routine for the two—muttering, "That one was worse than normal." A brief scowl set on his features afterwords. It never lasted too long.

"It's getting late," Kurobane stated after a small sigh, a single finger pointing up towards the sky.

Amane's head titled upwards for a second, before looking back down at Kurobane. "So it is," he murmured in reply, reaching over to pick up his fallen racquet. It rested lightly on his shoulders with his fingers twitching in impatience to play some more soon after.

"You should be getting home," Kurobane pushed further.

Greenish eyes blinked a few times before Amane's lips twitched upwards and parted. It was obvious what was going to be coming and when he saw it coming, Kurobane would be sure to stop it. He took a few quick steps forward, throwing his arm around David's neck in a quick headlock. "I'll walk you home," Kurobane suggested, a faint hint of smugness for having effectively cut off a pun creeping into his voice although it went unnoticed by him.

"I'm not ready to leave yet," David replied, halfheartedly squirming to get out of the headlock he had been put in.

"Come on," Kurobane interjected, using his free hand to ruffle Amane's hair. He was disappointed to find that even though it was loose enough that it needed to be tied back into a ponytail, only a few strands gave way to his attempt to mess-up David's hair. A sigh escaped him when the only reply that he got was a quick stern look from the on currently in his grasp. "Fine, then how about a quick one-set game before I walk you home?" Kurobane inquired, a faint hint of a grin coming to the corners of his lips as he quickly added, "Tennis isn't much fun unless you have someone you're trying to outdo."

"You don't have your racquet," Amane quickly pointed out.

The hint of a grin grew wider. "You have a spare, don't you?" Kurobane replied and David smiled at him. They ended up playing more than one game that night. 


End file.
